


A Thanksgiving Tradition

by Trifoilum



Series: Texting Robert [10]
Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Baking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Intrusive Thoughts, Light Angst, M/M, POV Alternating, POV Second Person, References to Depression, Self-Loathing, Songfic, Thanksgiving, it will be lighter after the first, um apparently not so
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-28
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-01-06 13:32:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12212256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trifoilum/pseuds/Trifoilum
Summary: Preparing for Thanksgiving and talking with Joseph. As simple as that.And then slowly, the family returned.





	1. Mixer. Cream Cheese. Walnuts.

**Author's Note:**

> CW : The second part is written in Robert's PoV and there's some.....destructive ideation there.
> 
> Plot bunny gnawed, and I followed. That included the song, and the carrot cake, yes.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Of course_ Joseph would do it like those cooking videos. _He probably matched the recipe to the brands_ , you snarked. Stop. Joseph was part of his past, too. Today, of all days, it should be honored.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ETA@ 22 November 2018 : I edited a few things, changing some context here and there.

Amanda liked your carrot cake. You liked it too; it was Alex’s recipe, and baking the cake was a Thanksgiving tradition. All things considered it was appropriate; appreciating the joy and honoring the pain, thanking the past and celebrating the present. Now that you were again three instead of two, and especially that Val would visit Maple Bay with her girlfriend….well.

The pressure was on.

Cut to the present; you and Robert, in your small kitchen, all the ingredients laid messily on the counter. Your boyfriend was sniffing the cream cheese you bought; then he looked at the expired date. Whatever date was written there only serve to exacerbate his frown, and you couldn’t help but playfully poked his creased forehead. “What’s wrong?”

He ignored your poking and handed you the tub. “This.”

You sniffed, and frowned. “Smells sour.”

“Yeah? But the date’s still good.” He held your hand to show the spot he looked before. It was indeed still good.

“Maybe it was just the smell.” You poked the cream cheese. It was pulled back.

“Hey! Do you want food poisoning?”

You poked it again. “Just a bit.” Then you licked the finger. “Ew. Blech.”

“To the trash. It goes.” Robert threw the tub away as you washed your hands.

“Well, ain’t that fun,” you muttered.

Robert folded his arms.“Do you  _always_  use cream cheese?”

You could easily see the gears of his mind working, finding alternatives. That probably needed a careful answer. He had been very respectful with letting Alex’s trace linger here; there was no need for unnecessary agitation. “No, cream cheese just tasted the best. But—I did try using whipped cream before.”

“We bought cream.”

“Yep. Hopefully it will be enough.”

You took out the mixer while Robert took out the cream and a bowl. While you were the one with the plans, Robert had been a man of action throughout the preparation. Both of you worked as a team and you were pleasantly surprised at how drama-free this year's preparation was. It was really nice to have someone beside you  _again_ to survive the chaotic, claustrophobic mess that was Thanksgiving shopping, even if that someone wasn’t Amanda. Also, Robert looked very,  _very_  hot with a shopping cart. How could he.

You leaned to kiss his neck from behind. That tensed him slightly, drawing a slight laughter. Grinning, he returned it on your lips, sloppy and deep, and the preparation was delayed as both of you were engaged with each other for a while. Roaming, wandering, exploring. Temporarily forgetting the issues of both your daughters and their trip back home.

Then one of the carrots was nudged and it dropped to the ground, bringing your attention back to the issue at hand. You quickly pulled your hands from underneath his shirt as your lover picked up the carrot.

“Your kitchen is a mess,” remarked Robert with a lazy snicker. “Look at all these stuffs over the counter. I thought we just cleaned it like, last Sunday. You’re not using the whole bag of flour. Why don’t you put them in bowls?”

You waved your hand. “Oh, please, think of the cleaning. You watched too many cooking videos.”

“Well, no —“ Robert paused. That made you pause too. He opened the cream and poured it to the bowl. “Nevermind.  Here.”

You knew. _Of course_  Joseph would do it like those cooking videos.  _He probably matched the recipe to the brands_ , you snarked. Stop. Joseph was part of his past, too. Today, of all days, it should be honored. Besides, Robert's silent frown was full of acid and no one would be more pissed off than him for bringing back memories. So you let it be.

Taking the bowl, you started holding it tight and turned the red hand mixer on. Nothing happened. The mixer did not move.

_The mixer did not move._

You let a long sigh. “Well, ain’t that fun.”

=============

Testing the mixer on other outlets did nothing; it lived a life well-lived, and died at the worst time possible. It was not surprising.

Both of you were soon outside. The sun was shining bright, yet it was also windy and cold.

“Harding’s a no. What about you?” asked Robert.  
  
You sighed. “Craig’s also a no.” To put it simply. Craig’s handling Thanksgiving preparation  _alone_  and River had begun to learn walking and you just couldn’t bother your friend any further. “And Hugo’s house is understandably empty. It’s still a school day.”

“We could just break in. He wouldn’t mind, “

“ _Robert_.”

He shrugged. “Just saying. Damien is also a no— he’s working, and Mary’s taking him out for the rest of the night.”

“What are they doing?”

“Watching an illegally downloaded  _It_  and both seasons of  _Stranger Things_ with her kids.”

“ _What._ ”

“Damien’s the chaperone.”

“I really can’t believe Mary sometimes.” You shook your head. “Okay, so, I’m going to the Coffee Spoon and ask Mat. If they have no mixer and/or cream cheese, then it’s either time for whisking with my hands, or time for another Thanksgiving shopping.”

Robert didn’t reply. He fixed his gaze at Mary-Joseph’s-house. “He must have them.”

You looked at the house as well, not even having to ask. “Are you sure? You don’t have to—“

"Mixer and cream cheese, yeah? That's what you need?" asked your boyfriend, still looking at the house.

You gave a long pause, looking at Robert. There was a silent determination in his eyes, hiding an undercurrent of unreadable emotions.  _He wanted this_ , a voice inside of you whispered. The mistrust there made you sick.

“Should I accompany you?” you asked.  
  
“No,” said Robert grimly, and you knew he was thinking the same thing. “I must do this alone.”

You realized his eyes were full of heat, but not the kind of heat you want to see from him. Neither of you said anything until you pulled him into a tight hug. “Some walnuts would be nice," you whispered.

He returned the hug with more desperation. "On it,” whispered Robert.  He kissed your sweaty forehead before leaving.

=============

Mixer. Cream cheese. Walnuts.

Robert repeated the three objects like a mantra. He knew his boyfriend was still looking, and he understood. There had been a time when the prospect of being alone with  _that guy_  had awakened an animalistic desire within him; a desire to rip that perfect polo shirt apart and devour him whole. Watch the immaculate facade disappearing in the throes of lust, feel his own orgasm building with every sound he made. Feel himself fall further in depravity as the youth pastor's fingernails drew blood from his back.

There had also been a time when that prospect of being alone with  _that guy_   had awakened a different animalistic desire within him, a simpler desire. ~~Just him, that guy, and a knife~~. Only the idea of traumatizing Mary and her children  _really_  stopped him from entertaining the image.

Now, Robert just felt dread. It would be easy for that guy to fuck everything up. ~~Even easier if it's Robert himself who fucked everything up.~~

Mixer. Cream cheese. Walnuts.

He knew he had changed, and it’s for the better. Trust in himself, trust in the people who helped him to reach this point.

He pressed the bell and waited. 

Mixer. Cream cheese. Walnuts.

With a smooth creak the door opened, revealing Joseph Christiansen in that oh so perfect smile that couldn't be anything but a façade. For a second, it broke. "Rob-- Robert."

God, he hated it. Hated that name. Hated the void in that voice that was filled with a promise once. Hated the slightest part of him that still perked when he used that name. Hated the blind rage drowning that part.

"Mixer. Cream cheese. Walnuts. Do you have them?" grunted Robert.

The youth pastor blinked once. Twice. Probably noticing his boyfriend far behind. Robert feared to see his face; fully knowing that seeing his worried face would end this. And he needed to do this.

So Robert pushed forward. "Mixer. Cream cheese. Walnuts.  _Do you have them?_ " grunted Robert with more aggression.

Everyone else would have backed away now. Mary would have smirked, taunting him to carry on. His boyfriend would patiently smile like his outburst was just a change of weather; natural, accepted. Joseph, he always turned his light up to eleven, always tried to look like Robert did not affect him. There had been a time when he craved it, thinking the light would save him, pull him away from his own darkness.

And he did it again. "Of course, come in!" said Joseph cheerily, jolting Robert awake. While beckoning him to come inside, the youth pastor waved to his boyfriend outside before closing the door. "Are you baking now, Robert? That was good!"

It reminded him of _Fast Car_.

_I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone_

Robert's answer was as much a warning as it was a reminder. "Not me. Amanda's coming home."

The youth pastor always projected a shiny, sparkly aura, and that façade didn’t seem to be changed in any way. Nothing affected him as he turned to face Robert with a million dollar smile.  "Well, I better scrap my own cupcake plan then. Cannot compete with a dad's handmade love, don't you think?" 

God, Robert hated everything about his voice. "Do whatever you like," he grunted. Not only did he not care about any of it, his boyfriend also likely wouldn't. His boyfriend was always insecure; about himself, about being a dad good enough for Amanda, being a good friend to everyone, being a good person, but never had he felt insecure about his own achievements. The younger dad would accept Joseph’s creation the way he accepted everything else.

The way he accepted him.

~~Would he accept his failure here?~~

Mixer. Cream cheese. Walnuts.

Despite making it a point never to enter the house as much as possible after their affair ended, Robert hated how his mind still could take note of every little changes. The books on the shelf were different, Christie had a new doll on the sofa, and there was a little crack at the corner of the fireplace that wasn't there. And yet, at the same time, the house was still as immaculate as  _before_. 

The hunter gritted his teeth, filled with indignation at Joseph, for living conveniently despite everything he had done. What a fucking injustice.

The youth did not seem to care as they passed the living room into the kitchen. Freshly baked scent of cookies lingered in the air. And of fucking course the space was as spotless as everywhere else. Again, Robert noted how some of the magnets on the fridge were different while others remained the same, and how one of the frying pans had a small dent that wasn’t there  _before_.

Robert turned his attention to the plate of chocolate cookies, neatly arranged on a porcelain plate. Nothing was ever out of place, everything had its place, and there had been a time when Robert deluded himself into believing he would also fit here. In Joseph’s home, In Joseph’s life. But he had always been a dirty secret for Joseph.

No—he thought he was fine to be a dirty secret, then Joseph obliged and it wasn’t enough for him. Just to drove the point further, his mind hummed the chorus of the song.

_So remember we were driving, driving in your car, speed so fast I felt like I was drunk_

_City lights lay out before us and your arm felt nice wrapped 'round my shoulder_

_I had a feeling that I belonged_

_I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone_

He startled, and Joseph had been looking at him, a concerned expression on his face. "Are you alright? Have you been sleeping well?"

This. This was how Joseph showed he cared. As much as it resembled his usual small talk, Robert knew the youth pastor had nothing but compassion for those he asked. And Robert knew if he told him, the blond would do his best to help because he couldn't bear seeing a lost sheep. But that was the only extent of Robert's existence in his eyes and the truth was no longer any of his business.

"Not bad," Robert simply grunted.

“Well, I’m glad to hear it. I assume Val's going back too? That's good. The path of recovery can be thorny and rocky, no matter the methods. Therapies, medicines, meditation, God; everyone struggles in their own way. Having all the help you can is really helpful, Robert.”

There had been a time when he would go on a self-destructive run after this, just to piss this man off. Now, Robert just grunted. His boyfriend was waiting home. Amanda and Val would return soon. He needed to stay strong.

Ignoring the big yellow mixer on the counter, Joseph took a smaller box out from the lower cabinets. The picture of a teal mixer stood out in the white background. “A backup mixer,” he cheerily said as he carefully took out its contents and set everything. Thankfully it moved when he pressed the button, filling the room with whirring. “Do you want the box, or no?”

“Whatever.”

“Okay,” said Joseph, turning the mixer off and placed the box away. He headed to the fridge and started rummaging it. “What are you guys making, by the way? Cake? Ice cream?”  
  
“Just shut up and be quick, Christiansen,” grunted Robert, ignoring how the youth pastor tensed. There had also been a time where he would unleash every painful words he could think of and relish at the pain they caused. And then one day he unleashed them to his neighbor, and he had to watch each of them struck his heart. ~~His face back then still haunted Robert in his nightmares.~~ Now, he had enough.

Mixer. Cream cheese. Walnuts.

“There’s the cream cheese, and it’s good quality too. Here, take them all.” The blond slid two tubs of some fancy mumbo-jumbo cream cheese inside the metallic bowl. He avoided Robert's eyes and quickly turned to search the pantry. "Now, walnuts! Hmm, I wonder if we still got any..."

Robert gripped the inside of his jeans pockets as jars were moved around, focusing his sight on the mixer. He ignored the way the blond kneeled, not even wanting to look there, afraid what would happen if he did. It would come soon, the moment of truth, that point where the Viper tempted Eve, offering her the Apple, something like--

"Are you happy now?"

\-- yeah, like that. Exactly like fucking that.

Except when Robert looked at Joseph, readying to counter him, the youth pastor was not the vamp in noir films like what he imagined, luring the conflicted detective into the boudoir for a depraved night of passion. His smile was brittle, the right hand held the jar of walnuts tightly while the left found support at his shorts, and the façade was completely broken, revealing sadness. Hope. Guilt. 

_You got a fast car; I want a ticket to anywhere_

_Maybe we make a deal, maybe together we can get somewhere_

_Anyplace is better; starting from zero got nothing to lose_

_Maybe we'll make something_

_Me, myself I got nothing to prove_

God, he hated it. ~~Hated himself for hoping, once upon a time.~~

No. He did not hate it. He did not hate any of this. He did not even hate Joseph anymore. Now, he just felt sad.

Robert repeated his boyfriend's breathing cycle once. "More than I have ever hoped," he answered from across the counter, teeth gritted and keeping his frown because he did not know what would come out if he didn’t.

"I'm glad." Joseph's voice was a whimper, his smile pained. Then he moved closer, looking down as he placed the jar of walnuts into the bowl. When the blond looked at Robert again, his fake smile was perfectly attached. "There! A mixer, a cream cheese, walnuts. All yours, Robert. Now quick! Go home! You are needed!" urged the blond, mock-pushing Robert as he picked the entire mixer up.

"Thanks," muttered the hunter.

"Have a good Thanksgiving! Send my regards to Amanda and Val, alright?" bid Joseph goodbye as he opened the front door, acting as if nothing had ever happened. Just neighbors helping neighbors.

And this would be it, right? Just go back home and made the damned carrot cake and be done with it?

_I'd always hoped for better_

_Thought maybe together you and me would find it_

_I got no plans I ain't going nowhere_

_So take your fast car and keep on driving_

No. He needed to do this. For Mary, but also for his own peace of mind.

So Robert turned around and stared at the youth pastor. "Christiansen," he called, which made the blond look at him again. "You should try some honesty. They're a goddamned virtue for a reason."

He left without seeing Joseph's reaction. The door closed when he strode past the lawn.

_You gotta make a decision_

_Leave tonight or live and die this way_

=============

Robert had expected a long heartfelt discussion. He had expected his boyfriend to stood still, bottling his emotions like he tend to do. He had even expected an outburst; jealousy, or worry, or at worst, suspicion.

~~_What did you do there, Robert_ _; do you still long for Joseph, Robert; I’m disappointed in you, Robert._~~

He did not expect his boyfriend groaning and cursing as he violently grated a carrot into a bowl.

The kitchen was a mess. Everything was shifted away from the counter and randomly placed wherever convenient; all at arms reach from the counter, he noticed. The floor had some carrots sprinkled over there, and one egg was shattered on the floor, its aroma so strong he could even smell it before entering the kitchen. Everything was out of place.

That turned the frown into laughter. Loud, relieved laughter as he found an empty space to place his loots on.

He received an exasperated glare for that, one that quickly softened into worry. “Are you alright?” asked the younger dad.

Robert smiled. Yeah, this guy right here had the privilege for the truth. “One, we got the goods. Two, nothing happened. And three, I’m here now. Yeah, I’m alright for now. How can I help?”

Whatever expression flashed on the younger man’s face was quickly replaced by an expression of nausea held back as he pointed at the broken egg. “Please, clean the egg first. I cannot stand the smell.”

“You broke it yourself!” Robert shouted while laughing.

“ _I got carrots to grate, Bobert!_ ” he shouted back, evading Robert’s attempt to kick his shins. Some of the carrot shavings dropped on the floor. “Aw, fuck.”

In the end, the carrot cake turned really well. His boyfriend kept worried that Amanda would have preferred whipped cream than cream cheese frosting, and the frosting was too rich for Robert, but it was the best damned cake he had ever eaten in his entire life.

The fact that they ate the cake naked on the bed was completely unrelated to that judgment.


	2. Interim: Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reply from inside was a sorrowful “I’m so sorry,” that would have been gutwrenching if it had been spoken any other time. 
> 
> Now, Robert just groaned. “God, the fuck was your problem?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More plot bunny gnawing, a bit more bantering. Have a drabble. :D

Amanda’s delighted hums filled the room, covering the incoherent mumbles coming from the bundle on the bed that was supposed to be her dad. Robert sat in front of the bed, watching everything unfold with a fond smile.

“ _So good_. Daad, how could you run out of vanilla ice cream?” said the young girl. “This would be perfect with vanilla ice cream. The betrayal hurts, Dad.”

Robert nudged the bundle of blanket with his foot. “See, she likes it,” then snickered to Amanda. “He’s been worrying all night about it.”

“Don’t care, will eat, but vanilla ice cream.” replied Amanda, beaming with joy. “I miss your cakes, Dad. I miss you. Thank you both for making it for me.”

The sincerity in her words made Robert pause.  Never in his wildest dream would he hear such kindness spoken to him. And then his mind reminded him that Val would also arrive this afternoon. Thanksgiving would be different this year. _More than I have ever hoped_.  

He pushed the bundle with more vigor. The man inside whimpered. “Hey. Your daughter’s praising you. Stop sulking.”

The reply from inside was a sorrowful “I’m so sorry,” that would have been gutwrenching if it had been spoken any other time.

Now, Robert just groaned. “God, the fuck was your problem?”

“Whatever was not the problem?” shrieked Amanda’s dad back.

Amanda shrugged and leaned against the bundle. “I’m fine, Dad.”

“You saw us both,” said her father. “We’re sleeping. Huddling together.”

“Yeah. That’s the point of a surprise.”

“ _Naked_.”

“The traumatic bits were covered,” argued the now-clothed Robert, and that bit of information was important. Because if they weren’t then the young girl would have seen him grinding against her dad, half hard, and _that_ would have been awkward.

The bundle curled tighter. “ _You’re not helping_.”

“You’re not helping yourself. ‘s not like she hasn’t seen any PG-rated movies.”

“Not starring her _dad_.”

“Oh, come on, Dad. I’ve seen worse,” said Amanda, waving her fork before taking another big chunk of the cake.

That caused the bundle to uncover itself as the younger man, also clothed, abruptly sat on the bed with bulging eyes. “What.”  
  
Robert sneered. “Roommates forgot to put a sock on the doorknob?”

Amanda nodded and let an exasperated sigh. Not even a year and the girl already looked older, more enlightened. “Yep. Like sure, the first time was all like, _my eyes, my virgin eyes_ , but by the third time? Sorry, dear roommate, but I really got to take this report.”

“Oh my God.” Her dad looked like he was about to faint.

“C’mon, bud. You’re saying you never saw Craig getting it on before?”  
  
He gasped. “ _Robert._ ”

The older man playfully backed away, raising his hand. “Okay, okay, fine. But do you know what’s even more interesting than that?”

“Stop.”

“What, Mr. Small?” asked Amanda, catching the bait with an amused grin. “Whatever would be more interesting that catching my roommate in flagrante delicto?”

“Having your roommate catch _you_ in flagrante delicto,” answered Robert.

 

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyy!” Robert and Amanda fingergunned each other as her dad seemed to find some solace buried deep within the pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After this should be the proper sequel...I think.


	3. Lemonades and Shitty Lemons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He wasn’t nervous. ~~He might have tried to twirl his phone like a knife, and he might have clenched his teeth for the last thirty minutes or so, but he wasn’t nervous.~~ Totally. Just a little tense, what fucking nonsense were you talking about?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning : self-loathing, intrusive thoughts. See end notes for details.  
> Also this features a whole lot of making out. Nothing too NSFW, but heads up.
> 
> Happy almost Thanksgiving, Americans!  
> ....I intended this to be a short chapter so _I can finish an ongoing fic for once_ but apparently my head decided otherwise. They....kind of sort of going off the rails here.  
>  But nevermind! Do enjoy! I HOPE.

Netflix had been set up to play one of those flashy action movies, but no one was really paying attention. Surrounded by the freshness of white tea shampoo and ginger soap, Robert leaned on the loveseat and stretched his legs towards the coffee table.

He wasn’t nervous. ~~He might have tried to twirl his phone like a knife, and he might have clenched his teeth for the last thirty minutes or so, but he wasn’t nervous.~~ Totally. Just a little tense, what fucking nonsense were you talking about?

Yesterday was worse. Yesterday almost made him seek absolution in a bottle. This? Totally fine, and _stop worrying about me, buddy. Stop banging your knees against the table too while I’m at it._ But neither of them was a telepath, so the hunter just ~~fumed and~~ stole a glance at his oft-abused gadget for, who the fuck knew, maybe the hundredth time today.

**A day before Thanksgiving – 9.35 AM.**

**No new messages.**

Still too fucking early. Guess they only had each other to blame here.

A terrifying mixture of guilt and worry had driven the two of them to a Christiansen level of preparation. Aside from the required research, shopping, and cooking, they also cleaned both their houses, weeded their gardens, _and_ dragged Harding to help them with the various home repairs they had ignored for months. Right now, both houses looked ready for winter, but the same couldn’t be said for their own bodies. Soreness tinged through his muscles and his body felt old and sluggish; an empty pill strip told Robert someone else had secretly taken some meds behind his back. There were way too much homemade remedies.

And then there were the daughters. Her ambush aside, Amanda had returned safely, but Val and her girlfriend had to cancel their plane ticket due to a supposed last minute work. They would go here by car, driving after she was done with her work, and of course that was the extent of Val’s message, sent at 3 AM in the morning. Any attempts to reach her bore no fruit and Robert had to wonder if ~~this was intentional, maybe a power play or an attempt to hurt her father the way she had been hurt~~ life in New York was that busy.

Fuck, he knew so little about her life. ~~Would he ever have a second chance?~~

Grumbling, Robert tossed his phone aside.

“Hey.” Right on ‘aside’, his younger boyfriend stopped shaking his legs and picked up the gadget. “Keep it in your hand if you’re just going to check it again,” he chastised, hand extremely tense as he gave the phone back.

The hunter sped the movie up past the barely there plot, paused it, and then stopped it. “And stop being so nervous yourself, bud. Swear it’s contagious.”

“Sorry.” Ah, damn, now he felt bad. “I’ll just …make a last-minute check of the fridge?”

“Stay. The way you’re acting, you’ll make a last-minute check every ten minutes.” Robert reached out for his boyfriend’s hand, threading the fingers and pulling them closer before they could be gnawed again.

A bit of flush tinted the younger man’s cheek. His freshly showered body was cool to touch and some part of it was definitely not natural body temperature. The awkwardness was thick and black as sin.

“It’s gonna be fine. They’re gonna be fine,” said the older man firm and tight, ~~repeating the mantra he told himself for the past few days.~~

A sigh warmed his shoulder. “I hope so.”

“Nah, in the words of the great Captain Picard, make it so,” said Robert in an affected sneer. “Here’s what I propose: you and me, on the bed, fucking our stress away.”

That netted an elbow to the torso, but they laughed a bit, so mission clear. Maybe. Switching to PBS, they decided to take the path of least drama and streamed _The Great British Baking Show_.

By instinct, his boyfriend leaned his body closer.

Equally by instinct, Robert wrapped one arm tightly around the other’s shoulders.

One of them sighed. By this time it could really be either of them.

On-screen, the contestants were about to make Tudor-themed showstoppers and era-appropriate puns were delivered, but Robert wasn’t really paying attention to them. His boyfriend picked up his white smartphone from the table and mulled for a minute before standing up and pacing around the small house. Thumbs were moving slowly across the screen, drafting and deleting and drafting as his back bent forward in thoughtfulness. When the younger man returned, looking a bit forlorn, someone had started freaking out on the show and he just had to frown at that sight.

Robert let a fond chuckle and curled into the tense body. Like most things related to him, his boyfriend’s messages were often something intense, diluted to appear less important than they actually are.

 _How was your day_ meant _I want to hear you and I want to know how you’re doing._

 _Drive safe_ meant _I want you to stay alive and I don’t think I can survive any more accidents._

And _I’m at the mall and that banh mi place you like is having a promotion, do you want anything_ meant _I’m thinking of you and banh mi sounds really delicious for today, don’t you think?_

Sappy as fuck, and sometimes they veered into the kind of carefulness that wounded Robert’s pride as a man, but most of the times they only felt absurdly pleasing for reasons. He didn’t bother finding out. Again, why dispel the magic?

As it was, he had no idea how long he had stared. Neither did he know how he looked while staring, but it was absolutely enough to net a saccharine smile from his boyfriend. Feeling his cheeks burning slightly, Robert shied away without actually pushing the other. “Stop that bedroom eyes,” he blustered. 

“What?” asked the younger man, wiggling his eyebrows between playful pokes. “This is not my bedroom eyes.”

Judging from the way his muscles tensed, there was a plan. Most likely a naughty plan, and Robert wasn’t about to start looking a gift horse in the mouth this late in his life. So he let the younger man pushed him down onto the sofa until their bodies were pressing.

They kissed a few times. It was nice, but the tension proved to be stronger, and a couple tentative brushes were all it took for them to give up.

“…Okay, I swear this is much more alluring in my head,” muttered the younger man as they snickered awkwardly at each other. ”And I think Benjamina’s going to be eliminated by the looks of it. Whatever she was trying to make …doesn’t look finished.”

“Really?” Robert followed his boyfriend’s gaze in a snap. “ _Damn._ I love her flavor palette.”

They turned their focus back to the TV, where everything was unfolding in good humor and painful puns. Whatever was happening in the tent proved not enough in keeping his interest though, and Robert closed his eyes with soft exhale. His smartphone was nowhere to be found; probably dropped onto the thick rug as usual. Carefully, the hunter trailed a hand across his boyfriend’s spine. The body was tense, the heartbeat fast and erratic.

“We don’t have to do anything,” he said, a casual remark. “Just wanna say it, make something clear in this fucking limbo of a day. Making out’s nice and all, but it’s not worth adding to our thoughts if we failed.”

His boyfriend looked down, straddling the line between looking neutral and being frozen. “I don’t know. Making out silly _is_ a better option than anxiety. But I guess I’m just—“

“No. Not just you. It’s also me.”

They stared at each other, a nonverbal argument between two men prone to blaming themselves for every mistake.

“Us,” Robert offered. “We tried and we failed, no big deal.”

The younger man quirked his lips up and shifted closer. “I don’t know. I understand libido is influenced by stress, but….I don’t know. Where’s Amanda anyway?”

“Out,” Robert cheekily pinched the younger man’s cheek. “Conveniently dognapping Betsy in fact, so don’t worry. Nobody’s gonna raid the house if you feel like trying again.”

He received the reply in a mumble. “…Is it even something we can _try_?”

“Oh, hell fucking yes.” Robert cupped the younger man’s jaw. “I think this is a shitty pile of lemons we’re getting, no shit. It’s shitty. But facts can’t make shitty things feel less shitty.”

He moved his hands up, pressing his fingers all over the temple and smiling when his boyfriend’s face turned slack from the pleasure.

“We can keep driving ourselves crazy with ‘em, sure. Lick our wounds. _Or_ we can try making the best lemonade out of shitty lemons. Probably won’t be as good as usual but hey, got plenty of time to burn. Just shut the TV off and free ourselves from the judging eyes.”

A soft laugh followed, and they did just that. They will definitely need to rewatch that episode.

There was a sliver of a smile on his boyfriend’s face. “I appreciate the attitude, Robert.”

“Life like mine, gotta make the good shit yourself when nothing’s there for you. Now, I guess you can say that I gotta make sure there’s enough of ‘em for everyone.” There was his boyfriend’s saccharine smile, again. This time, Robert didn’t shy away from the look, but he did make a knowing smirk in return. “It’s a challenge, for sure, but I’m always up for a good one. Especially when there’s a full body experience.”

It took a while for the meaning to land but the giggle was messy and uncontrolled when it did. Robert tightened his hold before anyone rolled off the little loveseat, which was something that had definitely never happened before, nope. Arching forward, he made a trail of kisses down across his boyfriend’s face, from the tip of the nose, to his lips, drawing a careless line along his neck. A plan started to grow.

After laughing, his boyfriend felt a bit more pliant to touch, and there was a deep blush lingering on his face. “Maybe not that _full body_ right now. But kissing you is nice.”

Being a pro at ambushes, Robert kept his tension to a minimum. “Kissing’s great," he said with a grin.

Without sparing a beat, the hunter rolled over and switched their position. One hand pushed his boyfriend’s chest into the sofa, keeping the man still before he could realize what was happening. Shock flickered on his boyfriend’s face for a second before it was replaced by a look full of mirthful recognition.

The hunter didn’t even bother hiding his teeth, bared fully like a beast who had found his next meal. “Kissing’s great, but d’ya know what makes it even better? Working for it.”

Robert persistently refused to bend down, not even when the younger man kept tugging and tugging on his long-sleeved shirt. “Beg,” he said, affecting his voice to sound like the meanest sonuvabitch in this side of town.

In another time this would be different, _thrilling_ , but at this point the younger man only blinked a few times. Shoulders hunched up, he started pouting and raising his voice to an awful pitch. _“Puhleeease?”_

“Ew,” Robert flinched in disgust. “You sounded dangerously close to your daughter just now.”

“Well, I _am_ her father.”

“Still. Wow. Feel it.” At this, he gripped his boyfriend’s hand and pushed it onto his covered crotch. “I don’t expect you to kill my boner any faster but you’re always full of surprises.”

“Hah!” Playful fingers gently rubbed the surface up and down before the younger man looked at him with a steady, if amused gaze. “It definitely used to be bigger. Well then. Is there anything I can do to make you get down here and let me kiss you?”

Still pushing his crotch to the welcoming hand, Robert leaned back and folded his arms. “Beg for it,” he repeated.

With a bit of eyeroll, his boyfriend lolled his head to a side, revealing a tender skin in need of marks. “Oh-great-and-merciful-Robert-Small-please-cometh-down-h’re-and-raineth-kisses-upon-me-I-beg-thee-please,” deadpanned the younger man before staring back. “That enough?”

Robert made a rasping kind of laugh and shook his head in some sort of disbelief. “Barely passing grade, but A+ for effort. Really liked kissing me, don’t cha?”

The man under him shrugged and smiled, neither shy nor ashamed, as if he just mentioned a fact: water is wet, there are more than two genders, and he likes kissing Robert. Really, this was a thousand times cuter than the shitty act he just pulled.

A pair of hands stretched forward to cling on his arms, and the younger man pulled himself up until he was sitting upright. His eyes were full of hope and they were so blinding. “I was promised some kissing.”

“That you are,” replied Robert, nudging their noses against each other.

“Do I get more than one?”

“Who knows?” he said with an easy breath. “You gonna work for it, bud?”

This time they arguably started too strong, because a wrong angle knocked both heads together, leading to a little _ow_ , an annoyed _hey_ , and ended by a sheepish _again?_

Finding and keeping the perfect pace was effortless, but it did take them a while. Their hands were restless, wandering, drifting in search for the other’s pleasure. A sneaky hand inside Robert’s torso made him grunt, and the younger man hitched a breath when his earlobe was nuzzled in return. The newfound silence gave clarity to every single sound they made, embarrassing but also endearing at the same time. If passion was a flame, then they were creating a spark, a mutual effort to stoke the fire and keep it burning for as long as it lasted.

A low huff of laughter followed another failed attempt to kiss the younger man’s lips. “C’mon, that’s nothing,” he said while pulling Robert closer for a bruising kiss.

Robert couldn’t keep himself from grunting and groaning as much as he tried. Arousal was definitely still an elusive concept but there was remarkably less hesitation now, the laughter flowing more easily as time passed. “So,” he said in a shaky rasp. “Enough kissin’ for ya?”

His boyfriend looked pleased and far from satisfied. “Never,” he hummed.

“Wanna keep kissin’ til your lips are sore and tired or do you want more?”

“Kissing. More kissing.”  The younger man brushed their lips together, not even caring that his laughter has a bit of tremor to it. “Less talking and come over right here, please.”

Robert grinned. “Keep begging so sweetly like that and there’s gonna be more than you can handle, bud.”

Clothes were starting to get rumpled. They climbed up for heated kisses and hands quickly found their purchase; the jaws for Robert and the back of his head for his boyfriend. The younger man always liked playing with his hair, brushing it with his palm or tangled his fingers around to revel in its rough dryness. This time he gave it a sharp tug and Robert loved that moment, loved the pressure, freaking loved that this bookish man would carelessly lose his usual restraint _because of him_.

Without realizing who began, both of them started rubbing their bodies against each other. Lips parted away and joined the hands as they roamed over beloved territory. Touching and being touched became separate goals in themselves, both provocation and assurance, pushing each other towards the edge of reason while still keeping them steady on the ground.

It was the opposite of desperate. It was sweet. It was certainly a good distraction. And so they kept touching and loving, their passion a comfortable campfire, melting over their worries as time started to lose its grasp.

At least until they heard a familiar ding coming from the floor.

With a lot of _waits_ and _fucks_ , they separated and the younger man picked his phone with a surprising speed. A quick glance and the tension reforming in his bones dissipated in a loud exhale. “Oh God, It’s just Craig.”

“Mother _fuck_ , Cahn.”

“Sooo remember how I told you he was making a lot of dough yesterday? Apparently he’s making a dumpling party right now and we’re both invited.”

True to form, Cahn texted the hunter not long enough.

_‘Bro_ _ヾ_ _(_ _☆▽☆_ _)_ _Come here, we got DUMPLINGS!! (_ _つ≧▽≦_ _)_ _つ_ _~~_ _(_ _つ≧▽≦_ _)_ _つ_ _~~_ _(_ _つ≧▽≦_ _)_ _つ_ _~~’_

“What do you think?” asked the younger man.

Robert’s eye twitched. “I can imagine him speaking this fucking cutesy and _I’m not sure it’s a good thing_.”

“Ooookay?” an eyebrow was quirked. “That’s not what I meant, though.”

“Oh.” Robert looked up and faked an unaffected shrug. ~~This was a time for family born and made and he deserved neither.~~ “Unusual, but I ain’t gonna say anything about how people celebrate colonialism and the deaths of countless Native Americans. Dumplings are cool. That being said…”

“That being said?”

Robert folded his arms. “Are you sure I belong there?” ~~He would broke everything.~~

His boyfriend blinked a few times. “You… did invite him before? For the _osso buco_ you made? The one I crashed in because we’re both curious about you? Or is there anything else I should know?”

And here Robert was trying to be considerate and shit. “C’mon, bud, you know this is different from inviting someone to try your _osso buco_ because you’re feeling lonely as fuck,” he said, tone a bit too defensive to be a joke. ”The only reason we’re having this conversation is only because I’m your plus one.”

The younger man had gone deadly quiet, and Robert forgot to breathe. ~~There goes his dumb fucking mouth, ruining everything again as always~~. A soft hand on his shoulder broke his spell, though, and when Robert looked up his boyfriend was standing in front of him, smiling. Not angry.

He lowered his body until his knees were pressing against the sofa. “So I can’t, and won’t push you if you don’t want to go, but—“ he paused, shrugging with a little bit of embarrassment. “Without being all emotional blackmail about it, I’ll be happy if you’re there.”

A chill flickered through Robert, settling at his gut. Some sickened part of him realized he was used to being the dirty secret you couldn’t show to others. A wild steed you took for a joyride. But those little messages? This? They were invitations, a space intentionally carved for one Robert Small, in all his sins and mistakes.

His boyfriend would be happy. _If he was there_.

He would be happy.

H a p p y.

After everything.

Ignoring his boyfriend’s graceless yelp, Robert reached forward to hold him tighter than before. A small ~~broken~~ noise crackled from his throat. There was no point to be surprised, or to act surprised. The younger man, bending down, firmly held his jaw and tilted it up before he started kissing the hunter from his hair, going down bit by bit until he reached the chapped lips. Taking his time. _Offering_ his time.

“You know, I reckon there is a point of having a joint Thanksgiving celebration.” The words came out soft, so softly like everything else about him. “So yes, I got no reason to mind your presence there, and I’m sure Craig will feel the same. But again….only if you want to.”

Robert made a broken snicker. He couldn’t believe there ever was a time when he thought Joseph and this man were one of a kind.

One second, two seconds, three seconds, and then he let go. Shifting aside, Robert lazily got up and stretched his body, his joints popping with every other twist. All that horizontal wrestling really ain’t making his muscles happy. “Alright, nuff drama. Guess we gonna give Cahn a reason for next year’s invitation, huh? Bring it, then.”

The younger man made a relieved chuckle while standing up as well. “If we did really good, maaaybe we can have some celebration, just the two of us.”

“Innuendo, buddy? _Damn_. Really craved that dumpling, don’t cha.”

Neither of them brought up Val, but they both know it was there. Robert could still touch the aching bruise from his past sinking deep into his ribcage, taste it in the air. And yet it was surprising how smooth the words flowed between them, how easy.

The older man knocked his shoulder to his boyfriend’s, doing the closest approximate they could get to bantering as they crossed the cul-de-sac, and absently wondered about lemonades and shitty lemons.

They needed water and sugar to taste good.

Maybe that's why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's quite a stressful time for Robert and he sort of slipped to a self-punishing mindset whenever he wasn't making out silly.
> 
> Next: Dumplings and Craig. I promise this is not because he's Asian, although it does play with that in the background.

**Author's Note:**

> yaaaay done ;__; unbeta'ed, feel free to kindly point out errors and mistakes <3  
> And constructive criticism is also welcomed! I enjoyed writing how Robert might feel regarding his affair to Joseph.
> 
> Song was Tracy Chapman - Fast Car.
> 
> For the next chapter I might write the Thanksgiving dinner? We'll see.


End file.
